Delay

I haven't come here in a few days like I promised myself I would. But I promise myself a lot of things. There's a black leather notebook on the coffee table next to my living room couch that has a list of 160 books that I have to get around to reading. There's also a list of movies and series that I'm going to get around to watching. That list is shorter, but the suggestions and urgings I get from people who share my tastes have been mostly recommending series, which takes more time and dedication. I'm just not sure how much more dedication room I have.

As a holder of a bachelors degree in English, I don't feel a sense of guilt saying that Shakespeare is not on my list of favorite authors. He's not on my shit-list, he's not really on any list at all. But as far as Hamlet goes, I will say this: I get it. I would prefer not to, but there's no point in pretending not to understand something that has become a repeating theme in life. Delay. My freshman-year Shakespeare professor told us that the prince's problem was the the "problem of delay", and I thought he was a pussy. Hamlet, not my professor. But now, five years later, sitting in my living room surrounded by books that I'm "going to get around to reading" and Amazon Prime sugguestion lists that are growing at exponential rates, I figure I may as well not be a liar on top of being a delayer.